


Mine

by jjonesin4



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Drunk Dialing, F/M, French Kissing, Groping, I fixed it, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Rough Kissing, SO SO GOOD, Sexy, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjonesin4/pseuds/jjonesin4
Summary: “What?” Jughead growls as he throws open the heavy door that he forgot to lock last night. He thinks he must be still dreaming because standing before him is his highschool sweetheart, Betty Cooper. Her blonde hair is longer and only half of it is up and she’s wearing black jeans with a charcoal sweater. Not a rhinestone or ribbon in sight. She looks different, good different (fucking GREAT different), but it is, without a doubt, Betty Cooper.“Hi, Jug,” Betty says a little shyly.“What?” Jughead repeats, utterly dumbfounded. “Um.. sorry. Hi” he sputters. “I, uh…”“I got your voicemail and I, well... I’m here,” she explains, kindly cutting off his babbling.“Voicemail? Uh, I…” Jughead stammers as panic sets in.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lifeandothercomplexities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeandothercomplexities/gifts), [EarthLaughsInFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthLaughsInFlowers/gifts).



> I took personal offense that they used one of my favorite artists for a b*rchie hookup, so I’m reclaiming this song for bughead, as nature intended. 
> 
> Song: Mine by Bazzi  
> Spotify Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/7uzmGiiJyRfuViKKK3lVmR?si=gKlfkuRsRdOtizEBf0x5-Q
> 
> I suggest listening to the song and even checking out the lyrics before reading, but you do you.

Jughead hits the red end call button with an uncoordinated punch of his index finger and manages to sloppily throw his phone into the inside pocket of his blazer. He brings his hands up to his buzzing face and lets out a long sigh as the car makes the turn onto his street. It’s late and Jughead’s head is spinning from the seemingly endless celebratory shots of his favorite whiskey at the party for the launch of his first book. 

His publisher was kind enough to order him a car. If only the driver in the clean, black suit could deliver him to his front door. He curses the flights of stairs he has to climb to get to his empty apartment, clutching the handrails with both hands to assist him in his daunting assent. The novelty of a New York walk-up studio with just a desk for his typewriter, bookshelf, and mattress on the floor wore thin before he could finish moving his ample book collection that first day a little over a year ago. Jughead fishes out his keys from his front pocket and fights with the old lock for about 45 seconds before it gives way, causing him to stumble in and almost fall on his face. He catches the edge of his desk and rights himself. 

“Smooth, Jones,” he mumbles to himself as he kicks off his nicer pair of motorcycle boots. He manages to collide onto his mattress (still frameless) and falls into a dreamless sleep.

  
  


Jughead wakes the next day to a succinct banging on the door specific to law enforcement. He sits up abruptly and immediately regrets the sudden movement and not having the foresight to shut the damn blinds on his only window. The sun beams paint his apartment with the golden glow of a cloudless autumn afternoon as he scrambles out of bed to answer the door. 

“What?” Jughead growls as he throws open the heavy door that he forgot to lock last night. He thinks he must be still dreaming because standing before him is his highschool sweetheart, Betty Cooper. Her blonde hair is longer and only half of it is up and she’s wearing black jeans with a charcoal sweater. Not a rhinestone or ribbon in sight. She looks different, good different ( _fucking GREAT different_ ), but it is, without a doubt, Betty Cooper. 

“Hi, Jug,” Betty says a little shyly. 

“What?” Jughead repeats, utterly dumbfounded. “Um.. sorry. Hi” he sputters. “I, uh…”

“I got your voicemail and I, well... I’m here,” she explains, kindly cutting off his babbling. 

“Voicemail? Uh, I…” Jughead stammers as panic sets in. Did he call her last night? Well, obviously he did or she wouldn’t be here. _Fuck!_ What did he say? What could he have said to make her LEAVE THE ACADEMY to check on him. 

Betty tries her best to contain a growing smile in that cute way that scrunches her mouth and nose simultaneously. She can’t hide the amusement dancing behind her emerald green eyes and Jughead loses himself for a moment. _She’s so fucking precious when she smiles._ Betty clears her throat politely, allowing Jughead a second to collect himself and invite her into his humble apartment. 

Betty scans the room with the precision of a top FBI recruit and it makes Jughead nervous. _What is she thinking?_ Her presence seems to fill the small space and he has a hard time fighting the instinct to wrap her into a tight hug and breathe her in. She has a magnetic pull that he has to actively push against. He knows for certain now that the only reason he survived their last breakup was that he had states (plural) in between them. 

Betty’s scrutinous gaze lands on Jughead. His party clothes are rumpled with sleep, his skin looks clammy, the circles under his eyes are more pronounced, and his hair is fluffed out in all directions. She shakes her head and drops her small duffel bag on the floor gently.

“Why don’t you hop in the shower and I go get us some coffee?” Betty suggests.

“Uh, yeah,” Jughead responds, staring at the bathroom door to avoid making eye contact, “that sounds good. Keys are-”

“Next to the typewriter,” Betty finishes for him. “Got it,” she says as she makes her way towards his desk.

  
  


The hot water rushes down Jughead’s thick, black waves, soothing his aching body and pounding head. He breathes in the thick steam in a futile attempt to calm the thoughts of Betty Cooper running circles around his mind. 

_What the hell is she doing here?_

_What has her life been like the past five years? Is she happy?_

_She looks even better than I remember._

_What THE FUCK did I say last night?!_

Jughead finally snaps out of his spiraling thoughts when he hears the front door open and the steady steps of Betty’s boots make their way to his kitchen counter. He begrudgingly cuts the water, towels himself off quickly, and brushes his teeth. He considers shaving, but doesn’t want to leave her unattended in his personal space longer than necessary. Snooping is her default setting. He shoves on a pair of clean-ish dark grey sweatpants and a white tank top and takes a steadying breath before leaving the sanctuary of his tiny bathroom. 

He is immediately greeted by the sight of a bag of a half dozen bagels, a tub of cream cheese, and another brown paper bag with little spots of grease forming all carefully placed on his kitchen table alongside the largest to-go cup of coffee available. He can’t help but smirk, remembering that there was a point in time when she knew him better than anyone. _She probably still does._

“I thought you might be hungry,” Betty says with a shrug as she sips from her own (smaller) cup. 

“But Betts, what will you eat?” Jughead teases as he takes the seat next to her, more comfortable in the presence of carbohydrates. 

Betty simply shakes a little paper bag she has in her other hand with a sly smile in response. Jughead lets out a chuckle and pushes back his damp hair as he makes his way towards sustenance. 

  
  


Jughead and Betty make small talk over their late breakfast. General conversation about their respective time in college and current careers. As pleasant as it is, Jughead hates that he’s talking about the fucking weather with a woman he used to share everything with. 

“Ok, well, I’ve been fed and caffeinated. It’s time to face the music,” Jughead says, trying not to make eye contact. “We both know I don’t remember what I said last night. I’m going to need you to play that voicemail so I can decide if I have to fall off the grid and adopt a new identity to escape the embarrassment.” 

Betty rolls her eyes and pulls her phone out of her pocket. “You’re still very dramatic, Jug. It’s really not that bad.”

“You’re too kind,” he says flatly, “I don’t believe you.”

She rolls her eyes again and lets out a small laugh. “Suit yourself,” she says as she queues up the voicemail and hands him her phone. She’s thoughtful enough to not play it on speaker.

  * _Hey Betts...well I don’t know if this is still your number. It’s Jughead...um, Jughead Jones. Sorry, I’ve had a little bit too much whiskey. I was at my launch, uh book launch… Yeah, I wrote a book and some fucking idiot published the thing. And you weren’t there and I, mean, of course you weren’t there. Shit, I need to wrap this up… This is a message for Betty, excuse me, Elizabeth Cooper of the FBI. My book is launched and I just had to let you know because, um...well because you’re mine._



“Well that was mortifying,” Jughead says with his hand covering his mouth. He huffs out a breath and places the phone on the table in front of her. “I’m so sorry, Betty. I...fuck,” Jughead flounders, searching for the words, “I can’t believe that I did that. I...FUCK”

“Jughead, stop,” Betty responds sternly. “Like I said, it’s really not that bad.”

Jughead stands, the instinct to run away calling to him like a siren’s song. He walks into the middle of the room and snaps his head to look back at Betty, still sitting at the secondhand kitchen table. 

“Why?” Jughead asks quietly. 

Betty looks at him, confusion painting her lovely face. 

“Why did you come here, Betty? How did you even know where to find me?” Jughead asks with more force than he intends. 

Betty stands, levels him with a knowing glare, and responds, “FBI,” as she gestures to herself. 

“Obviously that was a stupid question on my part,” Jughead acquiesces. “That covers the how, but what about the why?”

Betty bites her lip and looks down at her boots for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She brings her head back up and gives a slight shrug. She locks eyes with the bewildered man in front of her and he drowns in her genuine gaze. 

“Jughead, you published your first book,” she says, eyes filled with pride. “I don’t know exactly why I came if I’m being honest. I was so excited to hear that you finally did it and the next thing I know I’m on a train to New York,” Betty continues. “I didn’t think this through, I’m sorry.”

She makes her way towards the door and Jughead gently takes hold of her arm to bring her back to face him.

“This is hard, Betts,” Jughead admits, “being so close to you, but not really close.” He steps forward so that he can feel her body against him and he has to look down to see her. As if in a trance, Betty carefully combs her fingers through his hair and he leans into her comforting touch.

“I know what you mean, Juggie,” Betty says as she slowly moves her hands from his head to his chest, ghosting over his beating heart. “This just feels right...right?”

“Yeah,” he whispers as he brings his hands up to cup her cheeks. “It does.”

Betty pushes up to the balls of her feet to tentatively brush her full lips against his. It’s like a shock of electricity jolts through his veins. He tightens his grasp on her face and brings her in for a deeper kiss, desperate to taste her again. She opens her mouth so his greedy tongue can explore the contours of her mouth as his hands wander down her body. 

Betty lets out a breathy moan into his mouth and Jughead has to pull away so he can get a good look at her, needing this to be real and not some cruel, drunken dream. Her big, green eyes are glazed over with lust with pupils blown wide and her lips are bright pink and swollen from his kisses. He can’t look away. Her chest rises and falls violently as she catches her breath and he wants to pounce on her again before either of them can ruin the moment. 

He waits a beat too long and panic washes over Betty as reality sets in. “I’m so sorry, Jug!” she apologizes as she shakes her head and tries to take a step back. “I swear I just wanted to congratulate you on your book. I couldn’t keep myself away any longer. I don’t want us to hurt each other any more than we already have. I can go--”

“Stay,” Jughead interrupts fiercely. 

“What?” Betty asks, voice cracking with emotion.

“Betts, you’ve always felt like forever for me,” he confides as he takes a gentle hold of her chin and pushes it up so she can see the genuine need in his eyes. “Even if forever’s just tonight, please stay--”

It’s Betty’s turn to interrupt Jughead. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him impossibly close. Like a man starved, he crashes his lips into hers and pushes her back against the wall. Her legs instinctually wrap around his waist as she kisses back hungrily. He pulls her ass against him as he grinds down, making her lose her breath. 

She feels so goddamn good that he feels giddy. He smiles wolfishly before trailing open mouth kisses down her neck, knowing that she will grind greedily against him. She mewls impatiently when she does it and any restraint left in Jughead abruptly dissipates. His hands make their way to the bottom of her sweater and he pulls it over her head roughly. He kisses down her neck towards her heaving breasts barely contained by the sheer, black bra. 

“Mmmm, Juggie, will you say it again?” Betty pleads breathily. 

It takes him a second to understand what she wants. It all clicks and he smirks into her skin. 

“Baby, you’re mine.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm just a girl standing in front of a screen, asking it to find me more bughead kisses. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please tell me your thoughts! I greatly appreciate all feedback, kudos, and reblogs. Please know that your comments fuel the stupid fire inside me to write about these two idiots kissing. 
> 
> Tumbl with me @jjonesin4


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